


A Champion's Comfort

by oudeteron



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Ruby & Sapphire & Emerald | Pokemon Ruby Sapphire Emerald Versions
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Other, Sequel, Trans Character, and some other benefits, moral support, originshipping, seriously prove to me Steven isn't just from how it's written, that's for Wallace obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 06:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2299955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oudeteron/pseuds/oudeteron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Wallace feels down because of those who disrespect him as Hoenn's champion, Steven is there to catch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Champion's Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cherrytruck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrytruck/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Champion's Duty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2211315) by [cherrytruck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrytruck/pseuds/cherrytruck). 



> This fic came into being thanks to [A Champion's Duty](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2211315) by [cherrytruck](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrytruck/pseuds/cherrytruck); namely, Che suggested for me to write a sequel (yes, with this kind of plot, so it's not just me). It can work as a standalone, but why wouldn't you read Che's lovely fic?

Wallace is still awake by the time the lock on the front door springs to action, soon followed by familiar footsteps over the threshold. The fact that this is happening is such a pleasant surprise – Steven had said he'd only be back tomorrow – that it temporarily drives Wallace's dismal thoughts out of his mind while his heart gives a tentative flutter. He watches Steven enter the bedroom through his eyelashes, face half hidden in the pillow. Steven opens the wardrobe and undresses down to his briefs, then practically glides around the bed to pick up Wallace's discarded cape, Pokéballs, and hat, relocating them on the nearby armchair. 

He is so careful doing all this, so painstakingly silent, that Wallace can't take it anymore. “Steven. It's all right. I wasn't sleeping.” 

A solid weight hits the bed behind him and Steven's arms snake around his waist between the sheets. The voice Wallace missed throughout the past few days fills his ears. “Wallace! Wow, you were convincing. I haven't done anything to deserve the cold shoulder, have I?” 

Wallace shifts, ready to face his partner sooner than he would have thought. “Don't be ridiculous.” He runs a hand through Steven's hair and pulls him into a welcome-home kiss. 

Before Wallace knows it, Steven is pressed up against him under the covers, but he pauses when he inevitably feels the clothes. They part, both men panting a little, but Steven's brow is furrowed in the moonlight. “Why are you still dressed?” 

“Ah, well, I was just...” Wallace squirms, both figuratively and literally, as he unfastens his trousers and slips them off while lying down. “Tired, that was all.” 

Steven's eyebrows shoot up. “Tired, but not asleep?” 

“Make that lazy, then,” Wallace tries. It's a pathetic excuse, a stain on his usual verbal acumen. 

“You are not lazy,” Steven counters him predictably. “Come on, what happened?” 

“Can we talk about something else?” Wallace deflects, because on top of it all he really _wouldn't_ mind getting back on track, not after Steven ground into his crotch while they were kissing each other breathless. 

“Sure, when we've talked this through.” Steven frames Wallace's head between his elbows, propping himself up on either side. It's times like these that Wallace finds the similarity between the man and his favourite steel types grating, though Steven's stubbornness is almost a bit funny when he gets this way. “If there's something wrong, then please, Wallace, I want to know.” 

“Just because you say the magic word...” Wallace starts, but there's no bite in it, no resolve. Steven kisses his cheek, lowers himself gently on top of Wallace's still half-clothed body, but he does nothing more than watch Wallace's irritation fizzle out. 

“Oh, have it your way, you insufferable pighead. The trainers who come to the league all want you back. They think I'm a pretender, and they have no subtlety in letting me know just how much they'd prefer facing you, because you're the _real_ challenge. That's all.” 

It's dark, but Steven actually stares. “They what?” 

“Don't make me recount it twice,” Wallace huffs, but it sounds closer to a sob than he'd prefer. 

Steven falls off him to the side and pulls him into a tight embrace, which Wallace does not resist. “And why wouldn't you tell me that,” he murmurs into Wallace's ear, sounding more than a little exasperated. 

“Because it's just so petty,” Wallace sighs. “It shouldn't get to me like this, but it does.” 

“Well, they're wrong.” Steven is holding him so close, it's easy to just melt into it – or it would be at other times, times when he's not so wretchedly upset. “You do realize that, right?” 

Wallace sighs, and Steven draws back to squint at him again with obvious concern. It's more than Wallace can deal with and he closes his eyes, lets Steven hold out a hand to his cheek and smooth over his eyelids. Neither of them mentions that they are a little damp. 

“I'm not battling you _now_ , if that's what it's going to take to make you feel better,” Steven trudges on, “and I don't have to, in any case. You only need to beat the reigning Champion once to get the title, and before you try to discredit yourself again, of course I didn't _let_ you win. I may have been tired of it, yes, but I was not that desperate. You won for real and you know it.” 

Wallace gives a noncommittal shrug that gets mostly lost in the bedsheets. 

“Wallace, come on. I'm so sorry you're having to deal with this, but at least believe _me_ when I say that anyone who doubts you will regret it as soon as they set foot in the Champion's room. Makes an even easier win for you if they're overconfident.” 

That finally gets through to Wallace and he lets out a weak laugh, leaning more consciously into Steven's touch. A quick kiss lands on his forehead. 

They lie in an embrace after that, quiet except for their breathing and the rustle of fabric. Little by little, Wallace's mind unclouds. He runs his hands over Steven wherever they can reach, feeling a torso built for endurance, and expresses his affirmation when Steven breaks his progress to rid Wallace of the shirt he's still wearing. Their undergarments are the last articles to go before their bodies mesh, lips parting for each other, hands roaming, legs entangled and hips locked in a slow back-and-forth glide that hints at further possibilities. 

No doubt encouraged by Wallace's tongue so eagerly penetrating his mouth, Steven flips them both over and grinds into Wallace hard. Their arousal is mutual and impossible to miss now. Steven moves from kissing Wallace's mouth to his neck, then his chest – his tongue swirls on a nipple and Wallace bites his own lip, shivering – Steven trails down his abdomen and oh, he can tell where this is going – 

“A-ah...” Wallace doesn't moan, not exactly. He groans and he shudders and he lets his voice ride on his breath, tilting his head backwards as Steven's mouth envelops him where he is the most sensitive. It's pliant and wet, taking him gradually but with determination, as deep as Steven finds comfortable before releasing and repeating the process. He's thorough and has Wallace fully hard in what feels like no time at all – and then he pauses. 

Wallace looks down, his chest heaving and his erection standing out between them like an open question. 

Steven's gaze is burning hot in the moonlight and he asks quite deliberately, “Would you pass me the lube, Champion Wallace?” 

Wallace shakes his head but goes on to fumble with the bedside table regardless, feeling for the contents of its small drawer. Steven hasn't requested protection, which must mean that he wants to get messy, so Wallace only gets the lube itself and tosses it over. He is reduced to gasping as Steven gets them both ready, stimulating Wallace by the actual sensation of it as much as by the visual. 

As Wallace watches, his own hand wavers near the lamp next to their bed. He would love to see Steven better, yet all the recent stress has rendered him self-conscious about being seen himself. What with Steven mounting him and holding still just over Wallace's cock, its tip pressing into Steven's thoroughly lubricated opening, he's amazed that he even cares about something so irrelevant. 

It's like Steven can read his thoughts. “Let me see you better,” he requests without the slightest trace of pressure in his tone, and Wallace knows the light is nothing to fear. 

The bedside lamp flickers on, bathing them in a mix of light and elongated shadows. It probably brings out those dark circles under his eyes something awful, but Steven looks at him like he's the most enthralling sight ever and it's too endearing to argue with. The gap between their bodies closes and Wallace feels Steven surrounding him, careful at first before pushing down until there is no deeper to go. They sit like that, just experiencing each other; finally Steven undulates his hips and gives them both a tentative pace to follow. 

Rise and fall. Rise and fall. It's quite a slow rhythm, and there is always a little pause when Steven completes the descending phase. After a few cycles, Wallace finds his hands gripping the other's hips on the way down while trying to thrust upwards against Steven's weight. 

“On my back,” Steven suggests, sounding both helpful and quite needy himself. 

It is with impatience that they rearrange their position, kissing sloppily while Wallace presses Steven into the mattress. Being the one to maintain the pace now, he re-enters quickly, though not before applying some more lubricant just to be sure. But Steven accepts him with ease. 

“Wallace...! Ahh – there, do that again...” 

“Mmmh... Steven...” Words form halfway and fade. Vaguely aware that Steven liked the angle just now, Wallace tries to replicate it as he moves, moan after moan from the other man telling him to persist. He's going faster than Steven had been while riding him, but that, judging from the enthusiasm with which Steven urges him on, is exactly the advantage of their new position. The way Steven relaxes beneath him, responsive both vocally and with his body, is a sure sign that he is very tired yet also irresistibly horny. His legs are already spread wide but it's not enough, Wallace finds, not enough for this moment at all. He withdraws a little and pushes Steven's legs upwards, letting Steven hook them over his shoulders as he slides back in deep. 

If Steven's expression was blissful before, now it is enough to make Wallace blush. “That's so good,” he groans without restraint, “ahhhhh, so good, Wallace...” 

Steven is the first of them to come, messily and loudly. Unsure of his comfort, Wallace forces himself to slow down, but Steven encourages him to keep going without even bothering to lift his head from where he has his cheek pressed into the pillow. 

“A-ahh – you sure?” 

“Yes. Oh yes.” 

And so, anticipating his own climax, Wallace picks up the pace. He hopes it's reasonably gentle, but in truth has no idea anymore. All that's certain is that every time he snaps his hips forward, Steven meets him with another low _yes_. Wallace fucks him right through his afterglow. 

“Please – tell me if I'm – hurting you,” Wallace implores him anyway, knowing how sensitive Steven must be from his orgasm alone, never mind this extended session they're having. He ruins the effect immediately by groaning and bowing his head in pleasure as another thrust takes him where it feels so perfect inside Steven, too much so... 

When he looks up the next moment, Steven is gazing back at him, lips parted for his ragged breathing and his focus singularly on Wallace, love and lust written all over his face. There is no sign of pain at all; in truth, weren't it for the sticky wetness between them, he would have assumed that Steven was still approaching his climax just like him. Wallace realizes it then: this man can derive a whole another kind of pleasure simply from the knowledge that Wallace is getting his. 

It's just too much. Wallace gives in, fills Steven up like he's being asked to do in Steven's own breathless voice, Steven's name on his lips over and over.

 

When they hold each other some minutes later, mostly cleaned up and ready to drift off, the unpleasant subject they had originally discussed seems far away. Only one related idea crosses Wallace's mind. He gently nudges Steven back to alertness. 

“Steven, sorry. You weren't asleep yet, right?” 

“Not just yet. Is it urgent?” There is a hint of a smile in the man's languid voice. 

“We should do an exhibition match,” Wallace blurts out. “For the league, that is. That'll shut up the naysayers.” 

“Oh?” Steven sounds amused, but at the same time unmistakably pleased with Wallace's rekindled confidence. “So you expect me to go down again, is that it?” 

“In the match, I hope so. But other than that, I think we should keep an open mind regarding who goes where,” Wallace can't resist joking, and they caress each other into sleep.


End file.
